


On the Bandwagon

by corellianrogue



Series: A Step to the Left of Reality [1]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: BFFs, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Families of Choice, Gen, Hazing, M/M, OT5, OT5 Friendship, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Self-Esteem Issues, terrorizing a therapist, vary by chapter/ficlet but include
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11591154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corellianrogue/pseuds/corellianrogue
Summary: A collection of various bandverse ficlets and snippets. The boys figuring out life as a very strange and dysfunctional little found family.





	1. Slippery When Wet

**Author's Note:**

> Some of my old fic should be in this collection too, but I was younger and stupider then and didn't think about not overwhelming the feed with a thousand tiny fics. I'll pop them all into a series here probably but I won't be deleting the old ones because of kudos and comments. These are in no particular order or timeline unless otherwise stated, so feel free to imagine most of them at any point in their careers.
> 
> Up first: After some dish-washing gone awry, Yoochun learns valuable lessons about love, friendship, and knife-juggling.
> 
>  
> 
> Written variously for the 2011 and 2012 hc_bingo challenges on LJ.
> 
> Cleaning up and posting the rest of my old fic that never made it here to AO3. Don't mind the dust.

If he survived this, Yoochun silently vowed, he would never offer to help with the dishes ever again. Not ever.  
  
He sat on one of the kitchen chairs, hand wrapped in a towel and tucked in against his chest while he waited for Yunho to finish frantically calling for one of their managers to come get him. Maybe getting into a bubble fight while washing one of Jaejoong’s insanely sharp kitchen knives hadn’t been the best idea. That was totally Junsu’s fault, and he could hear Jaejoong yelling at him about it in the bedroom. He felt kind of bad, but at least no one was yelling at him yet? Someone was going to eventually, though, and he wasn’t in any hurry to get there.  
  
“Here, hyung, let me see?” Changmin had ‘volunteered’ to stay with him and make sure he didn’t go into shock, but really, the other three were all too busy yelling or getting yelled at, so it was kind of inevitable.  
  
He tucked his hand even tighter against his chest in automatic denial, but Changmin was the one who read health magazines for fun when they were stuck in airport lounges for hours. He begrudgingly held out his hand. Changmin didn’t even bother unwrapping it. He just took one look at the blood seeping through and grabbed another towel, wrapping it around Yoochun’s hand and up his wrist. “Hopefully it won’t need more than a few stitches. You can still move your fingers right?”  
  
If Changmin was trying to make him feel better, that was exactly the wrong way to do it. Yoochun whimpered at the sudden thought of not being able to move his fingers ever again, which would mean never playing the piano again, which would probably mean no composing or being in DBSK or-  
  
His fingers wiggled. Painfully and slowly. But they did. He breathed a sigh of relief that kind of wanted to be a sob, except no, his crybaby persona was only supposed to come out on stage and there were no fans in sight. Only Changmin, who was looking at him with a mixture of apology and worry. “Sorry, hyung.”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s okay. This’ll be fine and I’ll just get some bandages and painkillers and be right back here in a few hours, right?”  
  
Changmin couldn’t answer before Jaejoong came stomping in, Junsu in tow. Junsu looked so pathetic that Yoochun immediately lost any ability to blame him for anything ever again. He looked worse than Yoochun felt. Changmin wisely slid out of his chair, ‘accidentally’ nudging Junsu toward his vacant seat as he passed him, muttering some excuse about going to check on Yunho and snagging Jaejoong on his way out of the kitchen.  
  
Jaejoong’s loud protests cut off a little too quickly once the two were out of sight. Yoochun chuckled. “I think we were set up.”  
  
If anything, Junsu only went paler. “I’m really sorry. I never thought anything bad would happen and I promise to never do anything stupid ever again.”  
  
Was that supposed to sound like actual words? It took Yoochun a second to decipher, then he frowned at Junsu, which only made him curl into a tiny ball on the chair. Nothing was sadder than a Junsu!ball. “You are stupid.” The Junsu!ball flinched. “Why would I be mad at you for something that’s just as much my fault?” Ignoring the fact that he kind of had been a few minutes ago, but that had been before Junsu had looked all pathetic and sad and turned into a ball.  
  
Junsu glanced up. “Really?”  
  
He nudged Junsu’s shoulder with his good hand. “Yes, really. Can’t you hear?”  
  
The implied insult had the desired affect and Junsu puffed himself up, all traces of ball-ishness gone. “Yah! I can, too!”  
  
As if sensing the impending fight that would undoubtedly cause yet more destruction, Yunho poked his head around the doorway. “Yoochun-ah, Manager-hyung’s here to take you to the hospital. Let’s go.”  
  
Junsu’s face fell again, instantly transformed from indignation to worry. Yoochun nudged him again, harder, as he stood up to follow Yunho. “Your face is gonna freeze like that. They’ll fix my hand, but they can’t fix ugly. Then again, maybe it’s already too late.”  
  
He dodged out of the kitchen, Junsu yelling dire threats at him all the way out the door.


	2. Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody’s new sometime. This time, it’s Junsu. He’s just moved in to the SME trainee dorms, and he wasn’t at all ready for what was in store.

He stared in horror at his dorm bed. He had five hours until he had to be up for lessons and there was no way he was sleeping in that. Maybe not ever again.

It was covered in what looked like some sort of preserve. Several sorts of preserve, actually. Oranges and purples and reds, scrubbed into his sheets like they were trying to paint with them. If the dorm manager hadn’t seen this already, he would in the morning. There was no way he was going to get this clean AND get any sleep tonight.

Junsu sat down, on the floor because other than the bed, endtable, and desk there wasn’t any other furniture in the room, dropped his head into his hands and gave himself a minute. He just... he needed a minute.

~

He was right. He got his sheets cleaned, in the sink because they couldn’t use the washers or the showers this late at night, but he didn’t get any sleep at all. Not that he could have, anyway. His bedding was still wet when he put it back on the bed. It looked neat enough, but he’d have to find time to dry it before he could sleep comfortably in it again.

Despite everything, he was still late to his first lesson. Luckily, the teacher had been a trainee himself years earlier, took one look at the bags under Junsu’s eyes, and told him to just go sit down.

A couple of the other trainees snickered when slumped in his seat. One of them leaned forward and patted him heavily on the shoulder. “Welcome to the dorms, newbie.”

~

By the end of the day, his shoes had been filled with mud, he’d had a piece of bacon stuffed into the middle of one of his school books, and his water bottle filled with vinegar at voice practice. He didn’t even want to see what his room looked like tonight. Instead, he headed straight to Hyukjae’s apartment after his last class. He didn’t even say anything, just checking to make sure the bed was fruit-less before flopping onto it.

Hyukjae stood at the door, watching with a mix of concerned curiosity and complete confusion. “Uh... Junsu-yah?”

“It’s not fair!” He’d meant to lead up to that, but oh well. “I work just as hard as anyone, probably harder, and now I’ve finally got the money to do this, and why did they do that?!”

“...Right.” His sitting down on the edge of the bed was the only thing that kept Junsu from turning over and screaming into a pillow. “You want to start from the beginning?”

So Junsu did, although it wasn’t a very good beginning. He’d finally saved up enough money with the help of his parents to move into SME’s dorms and start lessons full time. That was a lot of money. It was why Hyukjae and a lot of the other trainees lived elsewhere, wherever they could afford. So it had been like a dream come true. He felt like he was actually getting somewhere. Somewhere that didn’t involve a bed full of jam.

“So what you’re saying is they’re afraid of you.”

Junsu stared. That was not what he’d been saying at all. “Huh?”

Hyukjae flopped onto his back. “Well, we’re all trainees, right? So we all theoretically have an equal chance of making it, right? Except we all know that’s not true. They think if they can scare you away, they’ll be closer to debuting.” He sat up again, looking serious. “You’re going to be better than any of us, Su-yah.”

Junsu didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know they all thought that. It wasn’t true. He was just like anyone else. And did Hyukjae-

He grinned. “Except me, of course!”

“YAH!” Junsu rolled over to launch himself at his best friend. “Just you wait!” If they were scared now, just wait! He’d show them all.


	3. Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand, Yunho has been calling them all crazy for years. On the other, he never expected management to try to do anything about it.

“Yunho, I just really don’t think-”  
  
Yunho sighed, closing his eyes and just daydreaming over whatever the hell Jaejoong was objecting to this time. He’d been at it all morning. And before that, all of yesterday since their manager had bothered to tell them that they were having a bit of a change in routine the next day. He didn’t know what Jaejoong had against counseling, anyway, considering how quickly he told everyone about anything without them even asking. Not that he was going to say that to Jaejoong. Some people enjoyed having and using a brain-mouth filter. Or at least having and using fully functional body parts, which he wouldn’t, if he dared say that to Jaejoong.  
  
Honestly, he was more worried for the counselor. Did the poor person know what they were in for? He did. He knew exactly how crazy his team was. He knew exactly what they were going to say and do, and he didn’t think any counselor, no matter how seasoned, was going to appreciate that.  
  
“-so, really-”  
  
Jaejoong was still talking. He probably needed to get around to making Jaejoong stop talking, just so they could all get ready to go talk some more. How was he the leader? “Jaejoong. Stop.” Right. Had him staring in shock at Yunho using his ‘I’m the leader and I say so’ voice. Now to move in for the tactical retreat. “You can tell the guy exactly why you don’t want to be there later, but I can’t stop this. Can we just get out the door on time? Please?”  
  
Begging usually worked with Jaejoong. It made Junsu whine like a toddler and Changmin just roll his eyes in unsympathetic Changmin-osity, but Jaejoong had something resembling compassion in his tiny, self-absorbed heart. They got out the door on time.  
  
The poor therapist probably wished they hadn’t. Yunho sat back, daydreaming of all the things he’d rather be doing, like performing or acting in one of their horrible dramas, or embarrassing themselves on some stupid variety show. He interjected a word here or there when the poor woman started looking especially wide-eyed, but mostly, he just let his bandmates ramble. They really did need a bit of de-stressing and if that came at the cost of terrorizing a poor woman for one hour, well, it happened.  
  
He tuned back in just in time to catch Jaejoong ranting about how they were all perfectly sane and it was in fact also perfectly sane to occasionally have the urge to kiss your bandmates in closets backstage. He was... pretty sure that wasn’t what Jaejoong was supposed to be ranting about. From the looks on the other three’s faces, he thought they agreed with him.  
  
“-and anyway, it was just that one time, except this other time-”  
  
He cleared his throat, standing and drawing the woman’s attention long enough for Changmin to punch Jaejoong’s arm until he shut up. Was it just his imagination or did she actually look grateful? He glanced at his watch. An hour of Jaejoong would probably make just about anyone grateful for it to end, and they were actually a little bit over. He was going to have to ask someone who wasn’t Jaejoong just how much trouble they were in.  
  
“I think we’re past our time.”  
  
Nope, that was definitely gratitude. He hadn’t imagined it. She nodded and he tried to be subtle about directing the others to escape while they could. He cleared his throat again, a bit more awkwardly, before stepping forward to bow, mutter an apology, and hand the woman a small stack of bills, escaping himself before she could say anything about it. Hopefully she’d treat herself to something heavily alcoholic. After Jaejoong, she probably needed it.  
  
It wasn’t until they were back in the van, their manager going on about how he hoped they had enjoyed the difference in their routine but that unfortunately they probably wouldn’t have the time to do so again anytime soon, and hopefully they hadn’t damaged their reputations too badly, yes, Jaejoong, even you, that he sat back and closed his eyes and realized that, hey, he’d managed to go an entire hour with no responsibility for keeping Junsu on topic or Jaejoong from talking at all or making sure Yoochun and Changmin said more than two words at the same time, and... it was nice. He actually felt better.  
  
Maybe he’d send her a Christmas card, too.


	4. The Wisdom of Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet ownership wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Jaejoong just wanted something that would love an adore him unconditionally. Instead, he got Changmin in cat form.

It hated him. He took a picture of the battle wounds (really just three small scratches on the back of his hand that were entirely his own fault but how was he supposed to know cats didn’t like treadmills?) to post to Twitter and text to everyone he knew. They’d all want to know he was mortally wounded, right? Right. He considered taking a picture of the thing holed up under his couch, but the flash would probably startle it into attacking him again and his stylists would kill him. There was a difference, after all, between cool battle scars and being horribly disfigured for life.  
  
He scrolled through his... what was it called again? He still didn’t remember all the fancy names and terms they were supposed to use. Junsu was posting more adorable pictures of his kittens again. He pouted at his phone, like it would suddenly decide to feel bad for him. How many did he even have now and all of them loved him. Jaejoong had one, ONE, that he showered with love and devotion and attempts at affection and all he got was violence.  
  
Suddenly, he missed Changmin.  
  
But he didn’t want the Changmin of cats. If he had to have something that beat him up for looking at it wrong, he wanted the real Changmin. Instead, he had a cat and a big lonely apartment and more breathing room than he ever thought he’d have. He didn’t think the fangirls had even managed to track him to his new place yet.  
  
Amazing. Yoochun would never stop laughing at him if he found out Jaejoong was lamenting having a private life. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He had all the privacy and space in the world, practically a luxury after the dorms, but no one to laugh at him when he tripped over his own feet trying to get his ridiculous boots off at the door or to yell at him when he just skipped taking them off altogether.  
  
He had his own bed in his own bedroom in his own apartment and he couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been more lonely.  
  
It wasn’t his fault. Growing up with eight older sisters in a small house, you learned fairly early on that privacy was a concept reserved for people without siblings. And then going to Seoul and constantly sharing tiny apartments trying to make enough money to eat, and then being crammed into SM’s dorms that were even smaller... well, what was he supposed to do? Just forget all of that? He’d never lived alone before, and he really wasn’t sure he liked it. There was no one to make breakfast for or say goodnight to (unless he wanted to run up his phone bill and Yoochun had begged him not to because Yoochun couldn’t afford it) and...  
  
He was lonely. That’s all there was to it. He was lonely, and the thing he’d gone out and carefully selected out of millions of other possible applicants... hated him. It also hated Yoochun and Junsu and the cleaning lady and its own reflection, so he didn’t feel too bad, but the fact remained that it hated him.  
  
Obviously, the answer was to try harder. It had never worked on Changmin, so he just assumed it would not work on the Changmin of cats, but if Jiji really was anything like Changmin, eventually he would give in just to make Jaejoong stop, and that day would be a glorious day! A victory for mankind over pet!  
  
He yelped, pulling his legs up on the couch as the thing swiped at his ankles. It then proceeded to slink out from under the couch as if it hadn’t just tried to murder him, casually sauntering over to his favorite chair, which just happened to sit feet from its scratching post, and use the fine, Italian leather to sharpen its claws.  
  
Jaejoong flopped onto his back with a moan, listening to the sound of thousands of Won being shredded by the ungrateful beast. Truly, it was the Changmin of cats.


	5. Worlds Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If a picture’s worth a thousand words, a hug can be worth a million.

There is an art to hugging. It seems like it should be the simplest thing in the whole world, just wrapping your arms around another person, but it isn’t. A hug is an important and sometimes dangerous thing. A hug says something about the hugger and the huggee and who they are together. A hug can say everything you want it to in a second, and some things you don’t.  
  
Changmin doesn’t so much hug as full-body-punches. When he really means it, you feel it. Yoochun complains that Changmin is trying to hug his brains out. Changmin says he never had any in the first place, so how would he even know? Jaejoong just does his best to give as good as he gets. Changmin says he’s a wimp.  
  
Changmin only hugs in the most extreme of circumstances. He used to hug when the cameras were rolling, but now he’s ‘the sexy one’ instead of ‘the cute one’ so he gets to be too manly for things like that. None of them actually believe that, a fact which they remind him of as often as necessary.  
  
Jaejoong doesn’t really hug, exactly. One might more accurately say that he carries out covert tactical hug maneuvers. His hugs tend to come whenever you’re least expecting them or least likely to think you want them. Jaejoong hugs with his whole heart, which is even bigger than his biceps have gotten lately. Yoochun has been known to melt in Jaejoong’s hugs on occasion, which is why Jaejoong has been forbidden from hugging on camera.  
  
Jaejoong hugs any time and any place, no matter how inconvenient, but he’s ‘the weird one’ anyway, so it’s okay. No matter how often he does it, though, somehow every hug still feels special.  
  
Junsu hugs the way he does everything in his life: with complete and utter exuberance. Each and every hug he has ever given has been the best possible hug he could give at that exact moment. As with everything else, any less than his best would be a personal insult to everything Junsu stands for. Junsu doesn’t do anything by halves.  
  
Junsu doesn’t hug often, or long, but when he does, he means it. They tend to sneak up on people, not the way Jaejoong’s hugs do, but more like the way a car sneaks up on you when you’re jogging in the street with headphones on. Ever since he took back the title of ‘the cute one’ from Changmin (even if none of them are quite sure why he didn’t have it all along except that Changmin was the baby and babies are supposed to be cute), his hugs have only gotten worse.  
  
Yoochun doesn’t really hug. He drapes himself on people in a way more reminiscent of a blanket or a lazy cat. The energy required of a hug is generally just too much to bother with. Of course, if all of his draping became actual hugging, there’d be some sort of scandal. All of the members know what he’s really doing, even when they don’t call him on it.  
  
Yoochun doesn’t bother with reasons or ‘a time and a place’ or any of the things management occasionally tries to remind them should be important. He drapes on whomever he feels like whenever he feels like, and that’s simply that. The middle of a concert? Sure. During an interview? Why not? Yoochun is what one might call addicted to physical contact, if one weren’t interested in being polite about such things. The members generally aren’t.  
  
The one thing that all of the members can agree on when it comes to hugging, however, is that Yunho gives by far the very best ones. He doesn’t really have any one style or kind of hug. His always fit the moment and the other person involved. They’re the kind of hugs that you don’t realize you need, but that you really, truly do.  
  
Yunho hugs like the world could be ending, and he wouldn’t rather be anyplace but where he is. He hugs like the huggee is the most important person in the world, and at that moment maybe they are. He hugs... well, he hugs like Yunho. Even given the time to think, none of the other members could manage a better explanation than that.  
  
There is an art to hugging, but it’s an art with a million different styles and possibilities. It’s the meeting of two people and everything they are and everything they could be. A hug can be a means to an end or the end in itself. A hug can mend a heart or break it. Begin a relationship or end it. A hug can be everything or nothing or anything in between. And sometimes, just sometimes, a hug can set the whole world right again, if you’ll only let it.  
  
  
  
  
 _Will you?_  
  
  
 _...Yeah._


	6. You'll See, Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all wounds are physical ones. That doesn’t mean they can’t still fester and rot and make your arm fall off. Yoochun really likes his arms. Luckily, he has Jaejoong to keep an eye on him.

Yoochun knows all about not being good enough. It’s like a splinter that gets under your skin and it doesn’t bother you right away until you notice it and pick at it and next thing you know, your arm falls off. Maybe that metaphor got away from him. But he knows the whole routine well enough that whenever management starts in on everything-  
  
smile more, talk more, be smoother, be more like what your image is supposed to be, be more forward, you’re the playboy, be more athletic, what kind of idol has asthma, be better  
  
-he’s mostly able to ignore it. Or, not ignore it, precisely, because he does want them all to be successful, but not take it quite so much to heart as he could. And if it bothers him enough to want to quit or scream or bash his head against a wall until they stop talking at him, well, he can’t. He can’t walk away because what would the others do then?  
  
He thinks that’s why he started drinking as much as he does. Not because he’s ever been a particularly heavy drinker. Hell, he wasn’t even old enough to drink back in Virginia. Technically he’s not old enough to drink in Korea now. But neither is Jaejoong and Jaejoong does it anyway, and Junsu doesn’t drink at all, Yunho doesn’t drink enough, and Changmin is younger than them so Yoochun would feel even worse letting him get in trouble for something he just doesn’t mind doing. So Yoochun drinks too much and smokes too much and gets yelled at for having asthma attacks in rehearsals, but it’s okay, because Jaejoong talks to him more than he does to anyone except maybe Yunho and... that’s good. Because when Jaejoong’s talking to him, about anything at all, all he can hear is-  
  
we’re rising gods, Yoochun, we’re going to be better than this some day, world famous, even back in America, and people will recognize us everywhere we go and they’ll love us and we’ll be so rich we’ll never have to think about money ever again  
  
-the good things, the reasons they’re doing all this and taking everything management throws at them. Which is a lot. Rehearsals and appearances and fittings and recording and more rehearsals and radio shows and maybe, if they’re really lucky, food and a quick shower and a couple hours of sleep.  
  
And whenever those couple hours of sleep are disrupted by nightmares of what if and-  
  
be this, don’t be that, be perfect  
  
-he wakes up next to Jaejoong, who tells him-  
  
go back to sleep, don’t worry, I’m right here  
  
-it’ll all be okay, he actually believes him. The things management say bounce off a little bit easier, and the ways they’ve hurt all of them heal a little faster. Like cleaning out a wound. So his arm just aches a little and gets better instead of falling off.  
  
He’s not quite sure when he starts to notice that it’s not just him. They all have splinters, hundreds of them. Until Jaejoong comes along and-  
  
it’s okay, we’re okay, we’re better than okay, you’ll see, I made your favorite, I’ll cover for you  
  
let’s sing  
  
-it’s like he knows exactly what he’s looking for and how to dig them out, because he sits with Changmin while he struggles with a new language or a difficult college class, and he distracts management while Junsu gets five more minutes on the phone with his brother, and he teases Yunho until they’re all laughing too hard to remember what the problem was anyway.  
  
The more Yoochun thinks about it, the more he thinks maybe that’s how Jaejoong deals with his own splinters. He’s spent more than enough overly long nights talking to Jaejoong about anything and everything, after all. He knows how Jaejoong thinks, as much as anyone can. Jaejoong is harder on himself than management could ever be, but maybe as long as he’s good enough for them, he’s good enough for himself, too.  
  
So maybe it’s a mutual thing. Yoochun can deal with that, and he gets to keep his arms. Maybe he’ll even share that metaphor with Jaejoong sometime.  
  
And maybe right now, he’ll try to stop thinking so much, cuddling Jaejoong like the giant teddy bear Yoochun has just decided he secretly is. He’ll even smile when Jaejoong frowns in his sleep before cuddling back.  
  
Don’t worry. I’m right here. We’re better than okay. You’ll see.


	7. It's the Small Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time, they vow to never let Jaejoong plan anything again, and every time he still does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written for the 2014 JaeHo XChange on LJ. Its recipient was smartcatt!

“I really don’t see how this is a good idea.”

Jaejoong sighed for what felt like the thousandth time since the others had left, but was probably really only about the third. “Look, do you or do you not want to get Junsu and Yoochun back for that thing with the jam?”

“That thing with the jam you helped them plan, you mean?”

He chose to take that as a compliment rather than a complaint and waved it off. “They just consult me for my expertise. That’s why I know this will be perfect.”

And it would be perfect, completely perfect. Summer promotions could always be counted on to suffer at least one unexpected rainfall, and Junsu hated getting soaked by rain almost as much as Jaejoong himself did (although Jaejoong would argue that Junsu’s hair didn’t merit the protection nearly as much as his own) which meant that Junsu had taken his umbrella and would need to put it away when he got home. Which meant that anyone already _in_ the closet would be in a prime location to give him at least half a heart attack.

Jaejoong had already laid in a stash of party poppers and one of those big cans where if you pulled the lid off, things jumped out, just to give the prank that extra oomph needed to achieve perfection. Really, it was so simple, he wasn’t sure how Yunho couldn’t see it.

Besides, even if one of the others opened the door first, it’d be funny as anything. A win-win for him no matter what.

The sliding door to the hall closet was doing that squeaky metal thing it did every summer when everything got all humid, and Jaejoong frowned at it before looking around for Yunho again, to make sure he hadn’t wandered off. He hadn’t, but he did still look far too dubious, which was a hilarious expression on someone holding a prank can. Jaejoong laughed, reaching to grab Yunho’s shoulder and nudge him toward the door. “I promise. Perfection. You’ll see.”

Yunho sighed but didn’t object again, just checked to make sure his phone was in his pocket before crawling into the closet. It was technically a walk in, in that you could stand inside the closet if you really wanted, but with five young men (one of them with more clothes than any sane person needed, but no one had ever really called Jaejoong ‘sane’) living in one apartment, all the closets were overflowing at the best of times. Between the shoe rack (and really, all of them could claim a hand in that particular obsession), the coats, jackets, miniature hanging hat tree (for once, mostly Changmin’s), and a pile of umbrellas of questionable origin, you could just squeeze in if you were careful.

With two of them, there wasn’t enough careful in the world. Sitting made it easier if still crowded, but they’d been dealing with crowded since they became trainees. Jaejoong had taken the precaution of laying in a couple of pillows for cushion, but he’d timed it carefully enough that the others should be home before they had time to so much as finish a round of Words with Friends.

He knelt on his own pillow once Yunho was settled in against the shoe rack, one of Changmin’s ridiculous deer slippers (a gift from a fan that Yoochun had taken a shine to and refused to let Changmin throw out, and that Changmin liked to pretend they never saw him wear around the apartment on cold mornings) providing the perfect backrest. Closing the door from here was awkward at best, but he managed, the odd metallic scrape seeming louder in here than usual, but he didn’t take any real note of it getting louder until the scrape became more of a thunk, if thunks could be kind of drawn out and shrieky. Even that likely wouldn’t have caught his full attention if the door hadn’t then refused to move another inch. He tried to push it open again instead, but no, the door didn’t feel like moving that way, either.

“Um.”

Well, that got Yunho’s attention. He’d been fiddling with his phone, but now he sat up straight, eyes sharp even in the dim light seeping in around the door. “Why’d you say ‘um’?”

Jaejoong hedged immediately, shoulders hunching. “What? A guy can’t say ‘um’ once in a while without getting interrogated?”

“Jaejoong-”

“Fine!” He’d always broken under pressure. It was a failing. He rearranged to sit more comfortably, actions at odds with his words. “Door’s stuck.”

“The door-” Yunho stopped, obviously hoping that Jaejoong was lying or somehow too stupid to open a door properly, before he moved to his knees, trying to open the door himself, but getting only a duller squeaky thud and maybe a centimeter of movement before the door scraped once more into immobility. He collapsed back, and Jaejoong pretended not to notice the incredulous look being sent his way. “You got us locked in a closet.”

He would have puffed up like an angry cat if he’d had the room. He settled for kicking Yunho’s ankle in a fine sulk. “I got us _stuck_ in a closet. We’re not locked in, and anyway, this is even better, because they’ll be paying attention to the stuck door and not where we are.”

“If they can get it open at all.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Yunho, stop being a baby. It’s not like we’re going to die in here.”

Even if a tiny bit of him was sure they just might die in here. The closet was stuffy and close, only the lights of the cell phones and whatever made it through the cracks of the door providing any illumination and the two of them all but sitting in each other’s laps, but still, it couldn’t be that long. Jaejoong pointedly sent a Words with Friends invite to Yunho’s phone, knowing the man’s competitive streak wouldn’t let him refuse. Actually, that was more or less why they were in this closet in the first place, but at least phone games were less likely to end in being stuffed in a closet, no matter how sore a loser Changmin was.

After fifteen minutes and a very close game, Jaejoong was sure the others would be home any minute. Until Yunho’s phone buzzed with a text, and Jaejoong leaned in close to see as he pulled the message up.

It was from Yoochun. ‘ _Hey, hyung. Be glad they didn’t drag you and Jaejoong along. Van broke down and the fangirls almost got Changmin. It was crazy. Anyway, they’re saying another couple hours, so don’t wait._ ’

Jaejoong leaned away carefully, not meeting Yunho’s eyes as his own phone played the cheerful (and just a tad deliberately annoying) tune of a text from Yoochun, probably more of the same he’d sent Yunho. The best laid plans…

“Another couple hours.”

Somehow, he managed to find an extra inch or two to put between himself and Yunho by trying to become one with the pile of umbrellas. “It’s not so bad.”

“A couple of _hours_ , Jaejoong.”

“I can read!” He huffed. Just because he played the ditzy one didn’t mean he really was that bad all the time. “And I said it’s really not that-”

Bad, he would have said, but for an even more unwelcome sound interrupting him than the dreaded squeaky thud. The apartment’s tiny air conditioner was set into an outside wall in the living room and ordinarily filled the apartment with a low, comforting hum. It had been especially warm the last few days, though, and that comforting hum had been more of a throaty gargle. Until just now, when that throaty gargle seemed to start gargling rocks instead, which lasted a few dreadful seconds until silence returned.

Actual silence. Not the throaty gargle. Not the low, comforting hum. Silence.

A moment later, the last of the cool air that had been trailing in together with the weak light through the cracks stopped, leaving the air as still as a reflecting pool. If only it were half so peaceful, as well.

Jaejoong and his new umbrella family carefully avoided looking at Yunho or near Yunho or anywhere in Yunho’s general direction. “To be fair, I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

Yunho seemed generally disinclined to fairness, which was unlike him. Jaejoong might have laid a hand on his forehead to check for a temperature, but at the moment he worried his hand might come back minus a finger or two if he tried. He settled for sending another Words with Friends request.

Somehow, it seemed ominous that Yunho was able to play ‘murder’ as his first word, but when Jaejoong questioned it, he just muttered something about not having enough letters for ‘justifiable homicide’ and they both left it at that.

He lost that game spectacularly and quickly (purely out of self-preservation, naturally) and after that, found himself at loose ends. Yunho had turned his attention to a single player game, completely leaving Jaejoong alone and to his own devices, which was neither fair nor right. It was like Yunho really thought this was all his fault. Which it wasn’t. At all.

First, he texted Yoochun back, something innocuous and annoying, a random assortment of emotes that he would later pretend had some deep meaning but were really just whatever popped up when he hit a bunch of keys at once. Then he went down his list, replying to emails and sending texts to half the contacts in his phone. Not Junsu, of course. Changmin got one short note with lots of laughing for the whole fangirl fiasco, but that was only to be expected.

That much texting took maybe an hour. Sometimes, he regretted his fast thumbs. He glanced at Yunho and sent one last text. ‘ _Hey, is it hot in here or are you just happy to see me?_ ’

Yunho glanced at the screen when the notification popped up, blinking at it and then Jaejoong suspiciously before opening it. He read it once… and then twice… and then dropped his forehead onto his knees with a groan. “How are you older than me?”

Not precisely the reaction he was going for, but he’d take it. Attention was attention. “Well, see, when a mother and a father-” His recitation was cut short ducking a shoe. That was a lot harder than he’d have expected at this range. “Hey!”

The match to the one now digging into the back of his shoulder was waved threateningly at his nose. “No one would blame me.”

While not strictly true (because management liked using his face to sell records, which wouldn’t happen if it had a shoe-print on it), he could take the threat for what it was. He sulked himself back into silence, phone forgotten in his pocket for the moment. It was hot. It was probably only going to get hotter. He was obviously going to die and no one would care, except maybe Yunho who would only care if his corpse started to stink before anyone came to let them out.

He twitched and twisted and turned and tossed, which lasted him about five minutes with increasingly annoyed huffs from Yunho every time he ‘accidentally’ kicked him in the leg. ‘Accidentally’ stepping on his ankle only got Yunho to turn up the sound on the most annoying game Jaejoong had ever had to listen to. Obviously, more drastic measures were needed, and it was getting progressively warmer in the tiny, enclosed space.

So he started to take his shirt off.

“Jaejoong! What are you doing?!”

Oh, he’d felt up to noticing _that_ , had he? Jaejoong rolled his eyes, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off and unbuckling his belt. “What does it look like I’m doing? I know it’s dark in here, but I doubt you’ve gone blind.”

Yunho’s jaw worked over what Jaejoong could only assume was an entire lecture. They’d all learned just how useless those were against Jaejoong, especially when he got his mind set on something, but once in a while they still tried. For now, though, Yunho just sighed. “Just… just stay over there.” He sounded almost defeated, but Jaejoong supposed being stuck in a tiny closet might do that to anybody given enough time, and they had nothing if not enough time.

“Fine.” He drew himself up as straight as he could and tried to pretend he didn’t feel the little line of sweat working its way annoyingly down his back. “Fine. It’ll be cooler that way, anyway.”

He even tried to rein in the tiny, internal howl of glee when Yunho’s shirt followed his ten minutes later. His pants stayed on, but Jaejoong knew not everyone was willing to go that extra mile like him. Not like either of them had any surprises left, not having all but grown up in each other’s back pockets like they did, but sometimes Yunho was just… Yunho, and that was okay.

The silence stretched out to a good decade after that (which was actually probably closer to fifteen minutes) through which Jaejoong again grew increasingly restless. He texted less than a third of his contacts this time. He sang along with three songs on his phone (technically one song, Hug, just in three different languages). He tried to stretch out, crossing his legs over Yunho’s, only for Yunho to huff again and kick him off.

Finally, something in him snapped. He’d say it was his sanity; most people would call it any pretense at self-control. He didn’t like being ignored at the best of times, and these were far from the best of times, but Yunho was a master at it thanks to long years of practice. He’d even tried texting Yunho a few more times, but the messages went unread.

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

“Hey, Yun-”

“No, Jaejoong.” He didn’t even look up.

Jaejoong gaped. “You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“Was it going to be ‘I’m bored, entertain me’? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what it was going to be.”

Jaejoong’s silence was practically an affirmation, but he recovered quickly. “No. Well. Maybe, but I wouldn’t have said it like that. That’s stupid.”

“You said it, not me.”

There was some satisfaction at pulling Yunho down to his own, childish level, but most of that satisfaction was lost in Yunho turning his own, childish level back on Jaejoong and using it to win. Not that most people could ‘win’ or ‘lose’ a simple conversation, but most people would never be Jaejoong. “YAH! Jung Yunho!”

But Yunho had gone back to the game with the annoying sound effects, and Jaejoong had had enough. Texting wouldn’t work. Conversation wouldn’t work. Hell, probably jumping Yunho wouldn’t even work, and frankly, it was so hot, they’d probably melt like gummy worms on a dashboard at this point.

So he resolved to practice his dancing. They were all on him to practice more in his spare time, weren’t they? So he was practicing. Just… while sitting down. And kicking Yunho’s legs in time.

Jaejoong could tell the second he’d pushed (well, fine, okay, _kicked_ ) a little too far, in the middle of a step-turn that he had trouble with on a dance floor and couldn’t get right like this, either. It wasn’t hard, really, considering the way Yunho growled. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the leader make that sound, and it would have been kind of sexy in any other circumstances, but then Yunho grabbed his ankle, pulling him flat on his back in the closet and making him squawk.

Of course, the situation could only go down from there. Yunho launched himself at Jaejoong (which was really more of an aggravated flop and completely in violation of their non-contact accord), one hand covering Jaejoong’s mouth, hissing something that might have been a threat, and Jaejoong might have actually been worried if the door hadn’t chosen that very moment to shake loudly and reluctantly jerk open.

“I don’t know! It was just stuck, I think the slider came out of the track aga-” Junsu had been speaking back over his shoulder after wrenching the door open, only turning back to see the awkward tableau at his feet. His words had cut off although his mouth kept moving as if his lips maybe didn’t get the memo quite so quickly.

Somewhere behind him, Changmin and Yoochun all but howled with laughter as they realized what had caught Junsu’s attention. Jaejoong started to squirm his way to his feet, only to go still under a pointed glare from Yunho until the other had pushed to his feet and disappeared down the hallway, the door of the bathroom slamming moments before the shower turned on.

Well. Jaejoong looked from one still shocked face to two going slowly red with breathless laughter and eventually shrugged. It probably could have gone worse. He pulled the string on the popper without standing up, the noise still getting a startled little jump out of Junsu even if the streamers barely made it to his waist. “Surprise?”


End file.
